


Raisins

by itsgoodtobeking



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:59:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsgoodtobeking/pseuds/itsgoodtobeking
Summary: A brief glimpse into Mayor Cobblepot & Edward's curiously domestic life in the manor. A short, festive one-shot that came to mind at the doc's office and I wrote up, just 'cause. Can be read as platonic or romantic, whatever you please.





	

Oswald's standing by his desk, sleeves rolled up, artfully arranging and rearranging what looks like a platter of bread over a doily when Ed shows himself into the study. Oswald stops and straightens, smiling brightly at him as if a long-awaited package arrived in the mail. The room is filled with the same warm, faintly musky sweetness that has spilled out into the rest of the manor.

"I thought the room could stand to look a little more festive, don't you?" Oswald asks.

Ed closes the distance between them in a few easy strides, giving the bread a passing glance. He clears his throat.

"There are a few items demanding your attention..." He begins, papers in hand, "...and your signature. First, the proposal on behalf of the--"

Oswald waves off the rest. "Please." When Ed seems confused or put-out - Oswald can't tell which - he continues, "...As much as I'm dying to hear about the next special interest group eager to dip their grubby hands into my pockets, it can wait. I was hoping you could try some of this." He grabs a small plate - there are two set aside - and sinks the knife on the platter into a braid of goldened dough sheening with glaze, transferring a thick slice onto one. "I would much appreciate your honest opinion." He holds the plate out for Ed.

Ed isn't hungry but takes it anyway. It seems like the right thing to do.

"Do you know what it is?" Oswald presses, eyebrows going up.

Ed adjusts his glasses. "It's bread," He points out lamely. "...Judging by the color and smell, some kind of sweet bread with eggs as a central ingredient. Or serving as the glaze."

"Christmas bread," Oswald explains. " _Five_ delicatessens in Gotham," He says, voice suddenly edged with annoyance, "and not _one_ of them makes it. So I took matters into my own hands." When Ed says nothing to this he shifts a little in place, wetting his lips. "Please..." He gestures to the plate in Ed's hands. "Help yourself."

He passes Ed a napkin and looks on hopefully, wringing his hands.

Ed chews and chews. "It's very soft," He says, finally.

It's enough.

Oswald relaxes and huffs a breath of a laugh, smiling. "It was my mother's recipe." He says, voice soft around the edges. It hangs in the air for a long moment before he blinks away a shimmer of tears and leans in that conspiratorial, roguish way Ed is all too used to, that assures him everything is as it should be. "...Though I thought it called for a little extra rum."

The stove beeps from afar.

"Ah..." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, a quick, nervous gesture. "Yes, that would be the second one." He sucks in a breath, wheeling around. "Excuse me."

Ed watches him hurry out, listening to the uneven thump of his footsteps down the hall for a moment before holding up his napkin and plucking the offending raisins out of his mouth, considering how to discreetly dispose of the evidence. Tossing it into the wastebasket by the desk wasn't an option.

"I hope you don't mind," Oswald calls out, "but I ran out of raisins for the second loaf."

Ed tucks the mushy tissue into his suit pocket and pokes his head out of the study, smiling to himself. "I'm sure we'll manage, Oswald."


End file.
